What they would do for money
by Yandere Shoujo
Summary: The Zoaldyeck family wasn't always completely secretive, unless it was an assassination. If the job paid well, they'd do it, even if it meant using their deadly skills as novelty tricks.


A/N: Why am I posting this instead of updating you ask? Because I want to promote my other stories. I intend on doing a Death Note crossover some time, but with the lack of attention, I don't want to post it and nobody reads it.

Plus I'm on a never ending quest to force people to read the crap I spew out for the sake of dominating the newer Hunter x Hunter fanfics. Seriously it's nothing but Fem this, yaoi that. So boring.

Also, in all the 13 fanfics I've done, I've probably spelled Zoldyck 15 different ways.

What they would do for money

Zeno did birthdays.

It was rare, due to the rather steep price, but the older man would get a call or two to attend a birthday party. The Zoaldyeck's weren't exactly secretive, except when on an assassination job. But if the job was _reasonable_ and paid well, they'd do it. The children were usually around six or seven, and only really asked for small things that held their interest for the hour or two he'd be there. Usually tricks.

Zeno liked the jobs, and he didn't mind the children. So as he stood, slicing little Bonney's cake with rapid strikes that didn't even touch the icing, he smiled. The girl's delighted squeals like music to his old, and still keen, ears.

* * *

Silva would work as a bartender.

He had good taste, and mixing poisons was just like mixing drinks, so why not? He got paid only a small bit less than a normal hit, but it was something worth passing the times in between. The calls were rare since only a select few outside the estate knew his face, but arrangements were still made. His clients were generally older men, having their get togethers and being rich.

The man would mix and make all kinds of exotic flavors. Sometimes performing special tricks or adding lethal ingredients rendered non lethal by his skilled hands. After all, how many men got to say they had an arsenic margarita?

Some billionaire chuckled as he held a pipe in one hand and Silva's special "Tiger Snake Whiskey" in the other. The men around him looked weary as he sipped the drink as though nothing was wrong, but Silva smirked. It was funny how others reacted, then they'd dare a taste, and eventually he'd be juggling bottles one handed in order to satisfy them all.

* * *

Kikyo went to tea parties.

She was a proper lady, and it was only natural for someone of her status to have them with equally high ranked women. They all practically hated each other, but they hid their twitching lips behind fans and fake giggles.

At times, the tea parties would double as guard jobs for princesses or countesses with too many enemies. Kikyo would wear some of her finest kimonos or dresses, depending on the country, and gossip about small things that didn't matter. If another assassin dared to show or kill, she'd properly excuse herself, deal with the problem, and return as though nothing happened.

The elegant kimono she wore folded neatly beneath and beside her as Kikyo sipped her green tea. She could feel murderous intent from the young woman next to her directed at the young maiden at her other side. Either the assassin was stupid, or they weren't familiar with her infamous name. Which in turn made them stupid once more. Sighing at the monotony of it all, Kikyo waited until they were about to strike to neatly slit the girl's throat. The maiden next to her screamed but Kikyo stood and prepared to dispose of the body. Bowing, and apologizing like there wasn't a body next to her with blood nearly dribbling in its lap.

* * *

Illumi did acupuncture.

He used needles to kill, so why not?

Unlike most of the Zoaldyecks, he received the most calls. It still wasn't common, but he still ended up going out more than five times a year.

His clients were generally younger, newly rich men and women looking for the exotic thrill of having someone like him holding their lives in his hands. It wasn't like he exactly cared, but it wasn't a hobby either, he just did it.

When he was finished, his clients would feel invigorated, thinking all their money went to a good cause. He didn't exactly do anything special either, he did what he knew and treated everyone equally no matter if they paid him extra.

The man under him would wince from time to time, but relax completely a moment later. His spinal cord had a full row of needles, as did his sides, neck, and arms. If Illumi wanted, or was ordered to, all he had to do was remove a single one from a particular area and the man would transform beyond hope or die painfully. But Illumi didn't. Illumi just added two more by his hips, letting the other sigh contently.

* * *

Milluki never left the house, but he would have online chats.

Flyte was an online video service that allowed others to hook up accounts and charge others for video calls. With a specially encrypted video feed, Milluki would let others talk to him and see his anime collection for a price.

Only the most hardcore otaku would contribute. They were amazed and deemed their money well spent after seeing his limited edition Yuki-hime no Onna in Wonderland doll. Only three copies were made after all.

A young man, probably in his twenties, excitedly clapped his hands as he was allowed a video tour of Milluki's room. Everyone was allowed only fifteen minutes, but after that they had to pay again. This had been his third visit through Milluki's room that month and neither were complaining.

* * *

Kalluto taught flower arrangement and origami classes.

When one could kill someone with a paper crane or a bouquet of flowers, previous clients got interested.

The boy didn't teach the lethal forms, yet he did teach the art. Kikyo hadn't raised him to be a boy, so he ended up learning to live as a proper girl. It was engraved into his mind to the point where thinking like a young princess was all he _could_ do. The woman especially favored the cultures of Jappon, so it's what he stuck with. She praised him, and he accepted it.

Kalluto's students often referred to him as female, yet he didn't mind. Now, as he sat at a table, he instructed the small group of three to clip off the stems of a particular flower before arranging his own. They were all middle aged, women, and probably more fretful than his mother when not in the public eye.

Kalluto enjoyed it a bit. It was fun being listened to, not pushed or pulled around, and being spoken to nicely without having to lop off someone's head to hear praise. The pay was still pricey, but in the back of his mind, he didn't even care.


End file.
